snowflake

As a new snow fell on the old year, it was like a sign of a fresh beginning. A snow so pure and white. A snow so perfect with every six-sided snowflake in perfect form. The sky to the west became pinker as more and more snow fell, the silence breathtaking.

Then, as the old year ran out, and a new beginning started, the sky was lit up with glorious fireworks in honor and celebration of a man known to my small town. A man who passed away on the 20th of December, the day we had a full eclipse on the winter solstice. Well known by all who lived here, it was a sad day for many when Rusty passed on.

But the sky was filled with shatteringly beautiful sparks of green and red, blue and gold, silver and yellow. On and on they went, celebrating a life. A life that was taken from this world all too soon.

I think that with the snow, and the celebration, this was a spectacular start to a new year. I may not make much ado about the whole starting fresh, but what could be more obvious than such signs as was played out tonight in my little town in Northern California. We are all starting fresh, and onward we go into a brand new year. Full of hope and promises. Wishes and dreams.

“Young writers should read books past bedtime and write things down in notebooks when they are supposed to be doing something else.”
— Lemony Snicket

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